Over the Edge

by Gloria Skurzynski

  OVER THE EDGE

  A MYSTERY IN GRAND CANYON NATIONAL PARK

  GLORIA SKURZYNSKI AND ALANE FERGUSON

  Text copyright © 2002 Gloria Skurzynski and Alane Ferguson

  Cover illustration copyright © 2008 Jeffrey Mangiat

  All rights reserved.

  Reproduction of the whole or any part of the contents is prohibited without written permission from the National Geographic Society, 1145 17th Street N.W., Washington, D.C. 20036.

  For rights or permissions inquires, please contact National Geographic Books Subsidiary

  Rights: ngbookrights@ngs.org

  Map by Carl Mehler, Director of Maps;

  Map research and production by Gregory Ugiansky and Martin S. Walz

  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to living persons or events other than descriptions of natural phenomena is purely coincidental.

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Skurzynski, Gloria.

  Over the edge / by Gloria Skurzynski and Alane Ferguson.

  p. cm.—(Mysteries in our national parks; #7)

  Summary: While she studies condors in the Grand Canyon a scientist’s life is threatened, and the strange, hostile, teenage computer whiz in her family’s foster care might be involved.

  ISBN: 978-1-4263-0970-0

  [1. Condors—Fiction. 2. Endangered species—Fiction. 3. Grand Canyon National Park (Ariz.)—Fiction. 4. Internet—Fiction. 5. Foster home care—Fiction. 6. Arizona—Fiction. 7. National parks and reserves—Fiction. 8. Mystery and detective stories.]

  I. Ferguson, Alane. II. Title. III. Series.

  PZ7.S6287 Ov 2002

  [Fic]—dc21

  2001003191

  To Marcel Damgaard,

  a young man of intelligence, character, and charm

  who touched our lives.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  The authors want to offer a very special and

  warm thanks to Pam Cox, Park Interpretive Ranger

  at Grand Canyon’s inner canyon,

  who helped us immeasurably.

  Our sincere thanks go also to Elaine Leslie and

  R.V. Ward, Wildlife Biologists;

  Rex Tilousi of the Havasupai Tribe;

  Mike McGinnis, Law Enforcement Ranger;

  Sandra Perl, Grand Canyon Public Affairs;

  Shawn Farry and Bill Heinrich of The Peregrine Fund

  (www.peregrinefund.org);

  Phillip B. Danielson, Ph.D., Department of

  Biological Sciences, University of Denver;

  and to the Greater Los Angeles Zoo Association.

  CONTENTS

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  AFTERWORD

  ABOUT THE AUTHORS

  Low October sun turned the massive stone walls blood red. From behind the rim of the canyon he stared at her, rage building in his throat until it almost choked him. She wanted to steal away his freedom. People like her were always trying to force their will on others, but he would stop her, and in a way that would stop them all. He searched along the nearby piñon trees, but they were empty. No one was watching except a raven circling on unseen currents of air. You won’t tell, will you, he silently asked the bird. The raven screeched in reply. It was a sign. Now was the time.

  She’d moved even closer to the rim. One push, he knew, would send her over the edge.

  CHAPTER ONE

  In his dream, Jack heard something ringing. Groggy, he reached out to hit the snooze button on his alarm clock. Was it really time to get up, or could he squeeze in just a few extra minutes of sleep? He buried his head into his pillow, arguing with himself about whether to climb out of bed immediately or wait for the alarm to go off the next time. Yes or no? Sleep for five more minutes, or roll out now, just to make sure he’d packed all the right camera equipment for the trip to the Grand Canyon? Eyes closed, he slipped back into the dream where he soared within the cavernous Grand Canyon, past fern-decked alcoves and springs that burst from the rock like fountains of gems. Beneath him the Colorado River unfurled in a ribbon of silver, winding between walls of orange-red rock….

  Ringing jarred him once more, and he raised his head, puzzled. The snooze button shouldn’t have gone off again that fast. He opened one eye to look at the clock. Two-seventeen in the morning! It wasn’t his alarm clock he’d been hearing, but the doorbell.

  “Come in, come in,” he heard his mother say, while a familiar voice answered, “I really hate to wake you, Olivia, but it’s an emergency.”

  “Wait—let me get Steven.”

  Jack hurriedly pulled on a pair of sweatpants. He reached the living room just as his father got there and heard Ms. Lopez say, “Hello, Steven. Oh, I’m so sorry—I’ve wakened Jack and Ashley, too.” Jack’s 11-year-old sister had stumbled into the living room, rubbing her eyes with her palms. Dark, curly hair swirled around her head, and her flannel horse-print pajamas seemed too big for her small frame. Although Ashley was 11, she wasn’t much taller than a 9-year-old. Jack, who was two years older, stood a full foot taller.

  “I really do apologize,” Ms. Lopez said hurriedly. “It’s just that this whole situation has blown up into quite a mess. I’ve got a young man who is in some serious trouble. He needs to get out of Wyoming—fast.”

  “S’OK,” Jack mumbled as his father asked, “What’s going on?”

  All four of the Landons were used to Ms. Lopez’s unexpected visits, but none had ever been in the middle of the night. A social worker who placed temporary-care foster children into safe houses, Ms. Lopez had always been dedicated to the children thrust into her care. Her kids were the ones who needed shelter for short periods until their problems could be worked out, troubled children who seemed to hover at the edge of upheaval. Over the past year, the Landons had provided shelter for half a dozen kids who needed help. Now it looked as though another one was about to come into their lives in the dark stillness of this mid-October night.

  Motioning to the figure behind her, she said, “This is Morgan Rogers. He’s a computer whiz from Dry Creek.”

  “Hi,” Ashley and Jack said, while their parents smiled and added, “Nice to meet you.”

  A tall, thin, hollow-chested boy who wore his dark hair in a ponytail, Morgan stood rooted to the entryway floor. A few straggly whiskers of a not-quite-grown goatee curled around his chin like smoke, smudging skin so pale it seemed he’d never walked in daylight. His brown eyes, though, had a snap to them, hinting at sparks beneath.

  “Morgan, remember what I talked to you about on the way here?” Ms. Lopez prompted. “Say hello to the Landons.”

  “Oh, yeah. I’m supposed to learn to conform to society’s standards, even if I believe they’re for everyone else and not me,” he said as he gave a mock bow.

  Sighing, Ms. Lopez shook her head. “Anyway, to continue—the other day, Olivia, you told me you’d be going to the Grand Canyon.”

  “Yes, I’ve been called to help with the condors.”

  “That’s what I thought. I realize this is terribly short notice.” She hesitated, then said, “I might as well just come right out and ask. Do you think there is any possible way that you could take Morgan with you?”

  “But we’re leaving first thing in the morning!” Olivia protested. “I can’t see how—”

  “I know, I know. I truly hate to put you on the spot like this. When you learn what’s happening to this boy, I think you’ll agree it’s an extrao
rdinary situation.”

  “Go on,” Jack’s father said.

  Ms. Lopez rushed ahead, “Not that he’s completely innocent in all of this—”

  “Who says I’m guilty?” Morgan countered, an expression Jack couldn’t quite read curling the edge of his lip. “Hey, I investigated the law before I started, and I’m telling you those intellectual pygmies will never make it stick! The problem is that the whole town’s filled with freaking morons. There’s not a person in Dry Creek who even knows how to spell First Amendment, let alone—”

  “Morgan—be—quiet!” Ms. Lopez shot each syllable into the air in a way that made Ashley jump and Morgan clamp his mouth tight. In all the time he’d known Ms. Lopez, Jack had never once heard her raise her voice, but now he watched as she planted her round, five-foot-three-inch frame directly in front of Morgan, who stared back at her with an inscrutable expression. “Young man, I want you to consider that the people in this room—the Landons—are the ones who can keep you out of juvenile detention. They are your only chance. Do you understand what I am saying to you?”

  “Yeah,” Morgan answered. “You’re telling me to keep my mouth shut.”

  Ms. Lopez nodded.

  “That’s censorship.”

  “No, that’s wisdom. Look, I’m already out on a limb here. Don’t cut it out from under me. If I fall, so do you.” The room was suddenly so quiet that Jack could hear the hum of the kitchen refrigerator droning a long, drawn-out note against the living room clock’s rhythmic ticking. Olivia shifted uncomfortably while Ms. Lopez kept Morgan locked in an unflinching gaze. When Ashley’s eyes met Jack’s, questions passed between them. What had Morgan done that would send him to detention? Was he dangerous?

  Steven cleared his throat loudly. “Well, why don’t we all sit down,” he said, sweeping his arm toward the couch. “You can fill us in on what this is about. Before we get started, would anyone like a glass of water? Or soda?”

  “No, thank you,” Ms. Lopez said, while Morgan just shook his head. In an odd way, mentioning something as common as a drink seemed to break the tension. The two made their way to the couch and sank into the plump cushions, while Olivia and Steven took the remaining chairs. Ms. Lopez unbuttoned her gray wool coat as Morgan unzipped his parka. Jack and Ashley dropped to the floor, legs crossed, watching expectantly.

  “All right. I’m sure you have a thousand questions. Let me start with the incident itself,” Ms. Lopez began. “As I mentioned, Morgan lives in the little town of Dry Creek, Wyoming, about 70 miles from Jackson Hole.”

  “Yes, I know where it is,” Steven said.

  “Well, if you’ve seen it, Steven, you know it’s a ranch town, small, quiet, and…traditional.”

  “Populated by a bunch of lemmings,” Morgan broke in scornfully. “My mom and dad got scared of the big city of San Francisco—that’s where we used to live—and decided we’d all get back to basics in the cow town of Dry Creek. I didn’t want to go, but hey, I’m only a minor. I have zero rights.” He made an O shape with his thumb and index finger and punched it into the air. “I found out fast that the only way to fit into Cow Town was to turn into another stupid lemming. I refused. That’s why they’re after me.”

  A frown passed over Olivia’s face. “After you?”

  “Yeah,” Morgan answered coolly. “They’re after me, all right. I’m a man on the run.”

  Except for his hair and his black shirt and jeans, everything about Morgan was pale. His skin looked translucent, like wax, while his fingers seemed long and white like bones. Jack could imagine how a kid like Morgan would stick out in a town like Dry Creek.

  “Morgan, you’re not helping. Why don’t you hold on and let me explain to them why you’re here,” Ms. Lopez urged.

  Throwing his back into the sofa, Morgan squeezed his eyes shut. “You’re right, I shouldn’t talk, even though I am the principal player.”

  Ms. Lopez went on, trying, it seemed, to ignore him. “As Morgan said, he didn’t exactly fit into Dry Creek. There was some…trouble.”

  “Trouble?” Olivia asked. “What kind of trouble?”

  “Unpleasant things were said and done to Morgan in the high school. In retaliation, he created a Web site to deal with his feelings. He…he wrote about the townspeople. In less than flattering terms.”

  Steven’s pale brows crunched together. “What does making a Web site have to do with getting Morgan out of town?”

  “You’ve got to understand, this was a pretty strong Web site. Morgan wrote about his principal, his teachers, and a lot of the students who’d given him a hard time.”

  With his eyes still closed, Morgan muttered, “So? Everything I wrote was true. Armed only with facts, I flamed Cow Town!”

  “Which of course made the people of Dry Creek hopping mad,” Ms. Lopez rushed on. “Look, I can understand their anger, but not what happened next. The sheriff got a warrant and broke into Morgan’s house. Deputies confiscated his computer and placed Morgan—who is only 15 years old—under arrest.”

  “Arrest? For what?” Olivia sounded alarmed.

  “For slandering the townspeople. It got so out-of-hand the deputies decided Morgan had to leave town and stay in detention in Jackson Hole. That’s no place for a kid like Morgan, Olivia. They’ll eat him alive in there! If he leaves with you, I buy time to fight this thing.”

  His voice grim, Steven said, ““Detention can be pretty rough.”

  “Exactly. It should be the very last resort.” For a moment, Ms. Lopez seemed to look past them, as though she were picturing a space totally different from the one she was in, a place where windows were barred and doors were locked. “You know, in my job, I see a lot of hardened souls,” she said softly. “But that’s not Morgan. No matter how wrong he was, he never threatened anyone. Being obnoxious should not be a crime.”

  Steven nodded, while Olivia looked less certain. Jack knew his mother, knew how she demanded that everyone in the Landon family show respect for others. Morgan did sound as though he had a first-class attitude, and yet Jack couldn’t help being intrigued by a kid who would unapologetically break rules, going so far as to use his own Web site for an in-your-face payback. Ever since he could remember, Jack had always colored between life’s lines, pretty much doing what his parents told him to do while racking up rows of straight A’s next to a rainbow of merit badges. How would it be to have real enemies? How would it be to do exactly what you wanted, no matter what?

  Morgan scowled deeply. “I just hope those idiot bozos in the crime lab don’t start messing with my computer and screw it up.”

  This time there was no mistaking Olivia Landon’s reaction. She sat back in her chair stiffly, asking, “Crime lab? Why would they take your computer to a crime lab?”

  “I’ve been charged with criminal libel. They took my computer as evidence. Aren’t you tracking this?”

  For a moment it looked as though Olivia were going to reply, but then she thought better of it. Ashley whispered into Jack’s ear, “What a jerk!”

  After a quick glance at her watch, Ms. Lopez rose to her feet, telling Morgan to come with her as she made her way to the front door. “So now you know the situation,” she said, shrugging her coat back onto her shoulders. “I realize it’s a lot to throw at you all at once, so here’s what I’m going to do. I’ll take Morgan back to my car while the four of you talk. Olivia, I don’t want you to feel pressured. If it doesn’t work out, I’ll understand. Just open the door when you have your answer, and we’ll take it from there.”

  Morgan shoved his hands into his pockets and followed her through the front door, which shut behind them. The four Landons sat staring at one another, unsure, it seemed, as to what to do next. Olivia was the first to speak.

  “I feel bad about his situation, but I don’t see how we can possibly take him with us. First of all, there’s the problem of an airline ticket and his clothing….”

  “Don’t worry about the details. We can make it all work,” Steven re
plied.

  Nodding slowly, Olivia paused before going on. “I guess I’m uncomfortable accepting someone who’s been involved in a crime. I don’t like his attitude. He doesn’t even seem sorry for what he did.”

  “Wait a minute. Are you serious?” Steven jerked his fingers through his hair, which caused it to stand up in blonde tufts. “OK, OK, Morgan wrote a couple nasty comments on his own computer. Slap him on the wrist, and tell him he’s a bad boy. But mouthing off on a computer is not a real crime.”

  “Steven, libel is a crime.”

  “Not in this case. And not when you’re 15! You don’t know what detention is like,” he said, his voice heating up. “Remember—I was bounced from one foster home to another when I was a boy. One time they ran out of places to put me, so I had to stay in detention. Trust me, that kid does not belong there. If we can help him, we should.”

  “I think he’s mean,” Ashley declared.

  “Nobody asked what you think,” Jack shot back. “Dad’s right. We ought to do what we can to help.”

  Olivia leaned forward, gently smoothing the top of Ashley’s tangled head. Then she looked into Jack’s eyes, hers brown, his gray-blue. “Why don’t you and Ashley head back to bed, OK?”

  It wasn’t what she said, but the way she said it that let Jack know there was no use arguing. Reluctantly pulling himself to his feet, he shuffled as slowly as possible to his room, straining to hear as his parents’ voices rose and fell, his mother’s calm, his father’s urgent.

  “Jack, wait a second,” Ashley whispered.

  Sighing, he leaned against his door frame and looked down at his sister. “What?”